Come Save Us A Runaway Train Gone Insane
by IrishFrenchy
Summary: Takes place five years after season two. It's Christmas time and as always, Mrs. Hudson's having her Christmas party. Things are a bit different now though, and oddly enough, Sherlock has gotten Molly something. Sherlolly and Mystrade
1. Five Long Years

It had been five years since Sherlock Holmes was forced to fake his death. _Five long years…_ Molly still couldn't stand to be on the roof of any building, nor look to the top of one. It gave her willies, which is an improvement, considering it used to make her sick to her stomach. A lot had happened in those five years. She'd made a habit of smoking and adopting cats, she'd been given a promotion in her department at St. Bart's, and she'd even begun to see her mother more often, in an attempt to fix the jagged relationship they shared. She had stopped being that mouse of a woman she became around Sherlock, she gained confidence, wore pumps more often. That was merely the tip of the iceberg. Deep down side inside though, she was the same Molly Amy Hooper, the very same litte bit hippy-ish girl who fawned over a certain Mr. Sherlock Holmes. If anything, that'd only gotten worse.

Perhaps fawning wasn't the right word... She was a woman, and she was mature enough to admit that she was head over heels in love with him. He knew, of course. He just never said anything. There were moments, though, when she how he felt about her. It was an unspoken rule, never to bring up things like that. She was his, his friend, his pathologist, his partner in crime, but she couldn't help wonder if he had grown to feel something else over the years. After he had asked for her help all those years ago, she felt like their relationship changed. He had gone to her, Jesus, of all people, he had gone to her. He trusted her, he needed her. She was part of the plan, something Jim Moriarty had missed. That night, though, that night there had been a glint in his eye, a glint she didn't recognize and it scared the hell out of her. All she could do was gape at him, tell him she would help. By rights, she should have kissed him right then and there, but she didn't.

It took some work and a great deal of effort communicating with the homeless network, but they'd faked his death. It got harder when she realized she had to lie now. He'd spent an entire month at her house after everything happened, before he had a grip on where he was going to go. It was unbearable, to say the least. He stayed up late every night, typing away on the computer, then he went out, came home. It worried her to death that he did those things. He could have been caught, or worse, killed. Lord, what if he had bumped into John by accident?

Molly had to steer her thoughts in a different direction as she got out of her car. "Don't think about such things," she told herself. "Think about bodies, think about work." She softly laughed at herself. "You're such a morbid girl, Molls." She closed her door and made her way into St. Bart's. Everyone said their hellos and good morning's as passed them in the halls. She smiled in return, balancing her paperwork and a coffee in her hands.

In her office, she dropped off her pocketbook and the mountain of paperwork she had yet to complete. "What's this?" she asked, noticing that someone had written her a note.

_Dr. Hooper,_

_Sorry, had to leave early. Work to do, cases to solve, people to arrest. Fun, fun._

_~Sherlock_

_P.S. I know, I have to give you back those heads. I'll swing by tomorrow, don't you worry._

"I hate when he calls me Doctor Hooper," she thought out loud and a laugh erupted from her. "That's why he does it," came the voice of her best friend, Sam. "He loves to tease you." She looked over to see her leaning against the doorframe, under some mistletoe. "This meant for him?" Sam asked, pointing to it and smiling. Molly giggled and shook her head. "No," she answered and waved her friend away.

"I believe you," Sam said and narrowed her chocolate brown eyes at the doctor. Her hair was down and it flowed like a wild waterfall across her shoulders. She was beautiful woman, but a totally tomboy. Molly and she had been friends since before middle school. "Oh, be quiet," Molly said and laughed again.

"Got a lot of work today?" Sam asked and took a seat in the lab bat's 'comfy chair.' Molly shrugged into her lab coat as she answered. "No, thankfully. How's the forensics lab been lately? I haven't seen your lovely face around here in a few days." Molly winked at her friend, joking around. Sam merely shrugged. "Horrid… Anderson is such an asshole. I hate when DI Lestrade sends him over with stuff." Molly nodded in understanding. "He's mean, I'm sorry you have to deal with him." Sam breathed a deep sigh and slumped her shoulders. "I might seek refuge in here if he comes by today." Molly smiled over at her friend. "Fine by me. I get lonely sometimes. You know how it is, these guys, my zombies, they listen great but they don't talk back. Bloody depressing sometimes…" They shared a laugh. "You sounds like Ducky Mallard, darling," Sam told her with another laugh. "Not that that is necessarily a _bad _thing, lord knows I love him, but you aren't Scottish, you're only thirty-seven, and you don't carry on for hours talking about stories we've heard a thousand times, so it doesn't fit."

Molly giggled and sat on the edge of the desk. "Careful, you might wind up building boats for the rest of your life and moving to Mexico, with that kind of talk." With that, Sam got up. Before leaving, she gave Molly a little slap to the back of the head. "Careful, I just might. Then who would defend you from Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?" Molly was still laughing as her friend left. "Merry almost Christmas, Molls," she yelled over her shoulder before the door closed. "Merry Christmas!" Molly hollered back, a cute smile on her face.

She picked up the note from Sherlock and smiled, before getting back to work. She had three bodies for today, not too bad. Maybe she could leave early if she worked quickly. Christmas was two days away and she had tomorrow off. It would be lovely if she could take the rest of the day off.

With a thoughtful look and a heavy sigh, she left her office."Time to get to work," she said to herself. Her Converse made soft shuffling noises on the linoleum hallways as she walked. As she made her way to the morgue, she thought of Sherlock. When he'd returned, it was all over the news. Everyone was blown. Frankly, Molly would have been too had she not been part of the whole scheme herself. Sherlock saved her reputation, saying he had pulled the whole thing off himself. John knew though, all he had to do was look her in the eyes. He wasn't stupid, and that thought alone, made her wonder if he'd known all along that Sherlock was alive.

**(Author's Note: LOL at the NCIS references, I couldn't resist.)**


	2. The Crazy Best Friend

Molly ended up being able to leave work early, after all. With a smile, she got into her car. The engine roared to life and she clicked her seat belt in place. "Right on," she said. "I think I'll go home and wrap gifts. Good idea, Molls." She was careful as she pulled out of her parking spot, and onto the main road. "Homeward bound..."

Once she'd gotten home she fed a hungry little mob of cats, Toby, Frodo, and Jasper, had some tea, and wrapped the remainder of her gifts. It was bound to be a boring night so she called Sam to see if she had gotten home yet. In fact, she had and Molly invited her over for dinner and a movie, in other words, some much needed 'girl time.' By the time Sam got there, Molly had finished wrapping all her gifts. For Sam, she'd gotten a Marlon Brando movie collection, Mrs. Hudson, a little painting she really wanted, John, a jumper, and Mycroft, a new umbrella. She didn't bother getting anything for Sherlock. There was nothing he wanted and though she didn't wanted to, she decided against getting him something. Instead, she took him out for coffee a few days earlier, which he seemed to appreciate.

Sam and Molly cuddled up on the couch to watch White Christmas with Danny Kaye and Bing Crosby, with a pot of hot cocoa cooking away on the stove that was almost ready. "So, what'd you get Terrance for Christmas?" Molly asked her friend. Terrance was her boyfriend, and not to mention, Molly's other good friend. Sam giggled and rolled her head so she could see her friend. "I bought him some new books, some razors." Molly laughed and nodded her head. "Very romantic," she told her friend, who laughed too. "I try."

"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve," Molly said and sighed, out of anticipation, or fear of some sort. She met Sam's eyes. Her friend merely hugged her and smiled. "You need not worry, Mr. I'm-Too-Smart-For-My-Britches won't attack you or something…" Molly laughed and shook her head. "Maybe I want him to." Sam laughed at that and nearly fell off the couch. "I know, dear, I know. He just might, you never know." Molly's eyes widened at that, but she shook her head. "He doesn't feel anything for me, more than friendship, anyway." Sam just shrugged her shoulders. "You never know… He's a quirky fella."

Later that night, Sam and Molly sat in her kitchen munching on some takeout, the radio blasting. Molly jumped up when Laura Pergolizzi came on. "Gosh, I love this song." She turned up the radio a bit, and Sam laughed at her dance moves. "Into The Wild," Sam said with a smile. She danced along like the tomboy she was. Molly smiled as her friend, who was a in a band on the weekends, sang along with the lyrics.

_Are we on the lonely side  
Say oh now the past long away  
Are we so lost in the dark of our hearts  
That oh-oh-oh-oh there's no light of day, no-oh-oh  
No-oh-oh-oh_

_One, two, three, four_

By now Molly was nearly breathless, and she just leaned against her counter. Sam played with the fork in her lo mein as she sang, her neck moving the slightest bit as her voice rose a few octaves. Molly just smiled and watched her friend. She had closed her eyes and now she was holding her fork like a microphone.

_Somebody left the gate open  
You know we got lost on the way  
Come save us, a runaway train, gone insane  
How do we, how do we not fade?  
How do we, how do we, how do we not fade away?  
How do we, how do we all fall  
Into the wild  
How are we livin', livin', livin'  
Into the wild  
How are we livin', livin', livin'  
Whoa-oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh, hey-hey-hey, hey-hey-hey-hey_

Molly tangled her fingers together and placed them over her mouth, watching her friend sing along. It was one of those moments you only ever witnessed a few times in your life. Sam didn't sing for anyone, unless she had an acoustic guitar in her hands and was sitting in a smokey bar. Molly suddenly realized how much like LP, the singer, she was. Funny how that works out…

_Oh please believe me I'm more scared than not  
That oh-oh-oh-oh this isn't the way  
And please be there, I can barely hang on  
But whoa-oh-oh I'll wait 'til I break, yeah-hey-hey-hey  
Yeah-hey-hey-hey_

Molly's phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out. "Wow," she thought out loud. Sam gave her a raised eyebrow and asked, "Who's it from? That facial expression's only reserved for a few people. Is it Sherlock?" Molly giggled and opened the message.

_Hey. You coming tomorrow? –SH_

Sam laughed. "I'll take that as a yes." Molly made a face as she went to reply. She stopped though, looking over at Sam with a thoughtful expression. "Are you coming tomorrow, to Sherlock's?" Sam nodded and smiled. "You bet." Without another word, Molly went to reply.

_Of course I am. Wouldn't miss your shindig for the world, Mr. Holmes. –MH _

_Somebody left the gate open  
You know we got lost on the way  
Come save us, a runaway train, gone insane  
How do we, how do we not fade?  
How do we, how do we, how do we not fade away?  
How do we, how do we all fall  
Into the wild  
How are we livin', livin', livin' in __the wild  
How are we livin', livin', livin'  
Whoa-oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh, hey-hey-hey, hey-hey-hey-hey_

Molly noticed a few new messages. One was from John and she couldn't help but wonder how to reply.

_He keeps fussing over what to wear tomorrow, Molly. I think it's for you. ;) –JW_

_Lovely. No comment… :P –MH_

_Good to hear. -SH_

Sam helped her clean up the kitchen as the song faded and some advertisements came on. They put on a pot of tea and thought about what movie to watch next. "It's a shame Terrance won't be home until Christmas morning," Sam said, half sulking. Terrance was in the army reserves, and as luck would have it, there was a big meeting on Christmas Eve. He would be home for Christmas, though. "Yeah," Molly said in agreement. "It could be worse though. At least he'll be home for Christmas day."

Molly felt her phone buzz again and she picked it up. "He's feeling talkative today," Sam joked. "Wow." Molly laughed in response, shaking her head. "He must be bored." She unlocked her keyboard to see his txt message.

_Is Sammy coming? Just wondering. –SH_

_Mrs. Hudson's fretting over how much damn pie to make… -SH_

She laughed at the second message. "I love Mrs. Hudson," she thought out loud and shook her head.

_Yeah, she is. See you then. –MH _


	3. Listen To Your Heart

As Molly drove to Sherlock's house, her mind still replayed the events of February 14th, the day Sherlock revealed he was still alive to the public. She couldn't help it… It had been a cold day like today, on the verge of snowing, a bit windy, not many people out of the street.

Wouldn't you know, when Sherlock finally revealed that he was still alive, when it was finally safe to come out, John slapped him. Molly saw it happen, not a few feet away. Sherlock's expression was definitely something to remember. After though, John hugged him. It was a big brotherly hug, one that made her heart heavy. They stood there like that for almost an hour, holding each other. She ended up leaving the room… The silence was too much to bear.

Molly turned the corner as she took the last drag of her cigarette. She threw it into the street and sighed as she saw 221b Baker Street's door. "You're early," Greg Lestrade said as he stepped out of his own car. He smiled as she stammered. She was surprised that he'd actually found a parking spot, and eventually she just shut her mouth. She watched him grab the covered lasagna and shut the door.

"Well, hello, Greg. Lovely to see your handsome face, it has been a while. How you been?" she asked, holding the flat door open for him. He weaseled his way in, desperately hoping he wouldn't drop his tray. "Been alright, actually. Haven't had any hard cases lately, and thank god, because it's almost Christmas," he said and smiled. "You look amazing, by the way." He took in her red sweater, modest jewelry, and pressed jeans, and how it all went perfectly with her black cowboy boots. Her hair had gotten longer and it hung loose over her shoulders and it bounced as she walked. "Thanks, Greg. How are you and Mycroft?" A blush creeped up to touch his cheeks and he smiled. "We're doing just fine. He might drop by later, though I don't know how Sherlock will feel about that." She chuckled at that.

She walked with him up the stairs. "Oh," he began. "Jeez, how could I forget? Merry Christmas, Molly." She laughed and shook her head as they reached 221b. "Don't feel too bad, inspector. Merry Christmas." Suddenly, Greg stopped. He turned around so he could see Molly. "Are you nervous?" he asked, genuinely curious. " Wh-why? Should I be?" she asked, stammering a bit. He raised his eyebrows and made a face. He got a better grip on his tray of lasagna so it wouldn't fall. "Remember what happened a few years ago? He might kiss you on _lips_this year? Watch out." They both shared a laugh, be-it hers was a bit hysterical. She didn't make any further comments as they made their way to Sherlock's door.

"Hey," everyone said in unison as the two walked in. "Late, as usual," John joked about Greg, trying to hold in a laugh. "Ah, be quiet," Greg said with an eye-roll. He took off his coat and hung it on a chair in the kitchen. "I'm not _always_ late," he argued. Sherlock chuckled to himself and decided not to comment, and that it was a war he couldn't win.

"Sure," he merely said. Molly giggled to herself, looking to Sherlock. "Don't tell me, the great Sherlock Holmes actually knows when to pick his battles?" She laughed at the sudden frown on his face and moved to rub his arm a bit. "I'm just joking, just joking." He looked down at her and a smile found his features, a smile that nearly blinded her. She sucked in a small breath and looked away, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Sherlock. By now, he could read her like a book, one that he knew by heart. He let her walk away, her eyes down in shame. She deposited her coat in the kitchen, near Greg's. He could hear by the patter of old slippers that she was joined by Mrs. Hudson.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," she said, moving to hug Molly like her mother once did. She and Mrs. Hudson had gotten close over the years. She patted Molly's back and offered her a choice of spirits. "Pinot Grigio if you have any, please," Molly said with a smile. Mrs. Hudson smiled, pulling a glass from the drainer. "I know, I remember. I bought a bottle just for you. I was _so_ hoping you still drink it." Molly smiled again, feeling all too loved. "Aw, thank you." She waked over to stand next to the older lady while she poured her a glass. "Sam is going to come by after she stops by her mother's," Molly told her. She briefly wondered how Terrance was doing, if he was bored to all get out up at his base. Knowing him, he was probably falling asleep during the meeting…

"No worries. I'm looking forward to seeing her, it's been far too long," Mrs. Hudson said and gave her a glass. "Thank you," Molly told her and took a small sip of her wine. The two went off on a conversation that lasted nearly an hour, catching up on anything and everything that had happened since they had last seen each other. They were interrupted by a curious Sherlock, who had roamed into the kitchen, drink in hand.

"Ladies," he said in greeting and a small smile appeared on his handsome lips. "You're up to no good, I presume." Mrs. Hudson laughed. "Oh, don't fret. I was only showing her your baby pictures." Sherlock looked horrified for a moment, then he realized they were only kidding. "Ha, ha," he said back, rolling his eyes a bit. "Will you two remain hermit crabs, or join the fun?" Molly noticed the glint in his eye, the smile that graced his lips. He was in a good mood tonight. She felt something inside her churn, something warm. Her heart dropped as he watched her, an eyebrow raised. "In a moment," Molly managed to say. He nodded and turned away, leaving them to their conversation. "Alright," he said before dipping out of the room.

Mrs. Hudson observed Molly as he walked away and she hummed to herself softly, making her way over to the sink. She dropped her glass in and rinsed it. "You're still in love with him, you know. If anything, that's only gotten worse," she told her friend. Molly looked over at Mrs. Hudson, eyebrows raised in surprise.

A motherly smile found Mrs. Hudson's features. "Hunny, you don't honestly think I've been his landlady of sorts for this long, and not have sprouted up with some deduction 'powers' on my own, do you?" She laughed at Molly's expression and reached out to pat her cheek. "It's alright, your secret's safe with me. Though, you don't exactly hide it that well." Molly's mouth fell open and she couldn't help but laugh a little. She was at a total loss for words, which usually only happened when she was in a certain Mr. Holmes' presence.

"We should join everyone in other room, otherwise they come looking for us, maybe even drag us out there all dramatic like," Mrs. Hudson said and winked. Molly giggled a bit at the mental image that brought about. "I think you might be right, Mrs. Hudson." They both went to join their friends, who were laughing and enjoying themselves in the living room. Victor was watching from the mantelpiece and poor little Gladstone was shivering the corner. He didn't do too well around large groups of people…

"Molly," Sherlock said in hello, feigning a bit of aggravation. She caught a smile on the edge of his perfect lips. "Sherlock," she said, doing just the same, but not being able to hold the face. She smiled and looked away. "Sorry we took long. Girl talk... You know how it is."

She sat down on the couch next to him with a heavy sigh. "I got you something," he whispered in her ear after she had settled herself next to him. His hot breath on the side of her face momentarily turned her brain off. She needed a serious re-boot. "Wait, wh-what?" she said after a while, when the gears began to turn again. She looked over at him, surprised and breathless. He nodded his head, and pulled something from his coat pocket.

She prayed that no one around them was paying them any attention. She gasped a little as he handed her a small, white box. "Sherlock," she managed to say. "Why did you-" Her cut her off by putting a slim index finger over her lips. "Don't ask, and don't be afraid. I just realized something, something that I should have already known. Now, open it." Much to her dismay, he let his hand drop. He kept his fingers entwined in his lap, atop his dress pants.

She looked from his polished leather shoes and pleated pants to his dark, navy blue button down. His hair was perfectly curly, combed over with a certain messy perfection that was distinctly Sherlock. Dark curls hung down over his forehead, making his pale eyes seem darker than usual. He sure looked damn sexy... He hadn't changed one bit over the years and that she would swear over The Bible on.

Molly finally looked down at the box he had handed to her. It was small, simple, but yet elegant. It was soft, with white suede. She stared at it for a long moment before smiling over at Sherlock. He watched her lift the lid to see what was inside. "Oh my god," to she mumbled, in total shock. Before her was a small white-gold ring. It had a Celtic knot running along the side of it, wrapping around it, just deep enough that you could see it. It was simple, beautiful. It certainly didn't look cheap, either. He probably paid a hefty pound for it.

Sherlock took the liberty of offering an explanation when she looked over at him. "It's a promise ring, a promise that I won't ever put your through hell again. I know it's been years, but I never really got a chance to thank you." He reached down and pulled the ring out, asking for her hand. She nodded her head, too emotional to offer any words.

He took her hand gently, and with a care that surprised her. "I know, you don't know what to make of me right now," he said, a smile gracing his handsome lips. "But believe me when I say this, I care about you." He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I never listen to my heart, ever. Emotions are something I always discarded."

She pulled back to look at him. "Sherlock, you're scaring me. You're acting strangely... Human." She smiled a bit, unable to suppress her happiness. "And are you listening to your heart now?" she asked, reaching out to touch his shirt, where his heart was. She surprised herself, but she tried with all her might not to look nervous and scared. Too often did she fumble like an idiot around him. Now was a time when it mattered and she tried like hell to keep it together, if only for him. Beneath her palm she could feel his heart, like a hammer, it was thrumming.

"I think I am," he answered in all seriousness. She watched him spread her fingers, slipping the little, beautiful ring onto her finger. Suddenly, they both heard a chorus of yells and ooh-rah's. They turned to see John, with his latest girlfriend Mary, Greg, and Mrs. Hudson, all with their eyes planted on the two. "Was that a marriage proposal?" Greg asked, his jaw nearly lying on the floor. "Bloody hell..."

"What? No!" Sherlock replied, making a face. "See, this is what happens when you eavesdrop, Lestrade." John laughed. "Mm... I think it was, Greg," he said. Molly blushed a deep crimson red and looked down, to the ring on her finger. "Trust me, guys, it was no marriage proposal. Sherlock's not the marrying type. It was just a promise ring, of... Friendship and some much-needed apologies," she said, only half lying.

Sherlock turned to see her. "I'm not the marrying type?" he asked, quoting her. The manner in which he broached the question made her blush even deeper. "What if I am?" he asked her. He looked all-business, like a towering stone-like structure that just wouldn't budge. His eyes bored into hers, though he didn't mean to seem scary, that was just the way he was, distant and blunt when it came to questions. She laughed, wishing she could shrink and run away. For whatever reason, something inside her clicked. "Then you damn well fooled me..." Her voice, for once, didn't waver. It was strong. There was confidence in her tone, and the curse word took Sherlock by surprise. He looked over at her again, eyebrows raised.

"Well," John began. "I can see I need another drink." He shoved off to the kitchen. "Anyone care to join? Those two _obviously_need to talk..." Everyone followed after him, full-heartedly agreeing. "I agree," Mrs. Hudson said softly, putting her arm around Greg's and pulling him with her.

"What is going on here?" Molly suddenly blurted out. "Am I dreaming or something? That would make a whole hell of a lot more sense." Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean, Molly?" Exasperated, she shook her head and looked away. "What?" he pressed on. For once, he felt stumped. That's what emotions did to him…

Finally, she met his eyes. "You mean to tell me the great Sherlock Holmes doesn't know? You can deduce anything, you can solve a case in seconds, you _beat _The Great Jim Moriarty, but you can't see what's right in front of you?" He looked confused, so he just watched her. She shook her head and went on. "I'm what's right in front of you… I have loved you since the day you strolled in my morgue, for Pete's sake. Don't you see that? You think I have some silly crush on you all these years, huh? No, no, no." She stopped talking for a moment, taking in a deep breath. The air wooshed from her lungs shakily as she looked over at him, to find him sitting there, just watching her. She wondered what he was deducing from her right now. He could probably see right through her, he always could. Her heart was on her damned sleeve already anyway, right?

For the love of God, she just told this man she loved him. All he could do was look at her? "It's so much more than that, Mr. Holmes. It's not a stupid crush, it never was. I'm a grown woman. You say you're listening to your heart? You suddenly decided to listen to it, to _feel_ something? God, it's so frustrating! What is it telling you _now_, huh?"

All her years of pent up aggravation seemed to come out in that one moment, and she was sort of shouting her words at him, unknowingly of course. It was like a massive flood, she just couldn't stop it, and it left her trembling and horrified. "What is it telling you, Sherlock? Talk to me, please, for once. You're different tonight, and God, I can't lie I say I don't like it." She suddenly realized he was holding her hand, and it was as if he were trying to massage the frustration from it. He rubbed circles into her soft skin. "And, please, don't stop doing that," she said, touching her other hand to her temple. At this point, she didn't care what he thought of her.

She let out a soft sob and looked over at him. "You-" She was cut off by a pair of firm lips against hers, and that answered everything. Before she even realized it, she was kissing him back, with a passion she didn't even realize she had.

He reached out for her and cupped both of her cheeks as he tilted her head upwards, all the while kissing her. She was surprised at the skill he harbored. Never would she have guessed he was such a good kisser. He held her close as they kissed, breaking apart only when it was absolutely necessary. She sighed as they pulled apart, reaching out for his coat. "Why on earth did you just kiss me? And like that, too?" He could tell by her tone that she was only kidding. He chuckled under his breath. "You mean to tell me that you don't know? I know you're not stupid, in fact, you're far from it." She raised her eyebrows, a bit surprised that he didn't consider her an idiot. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I think I love you," he told her. Her head began to spin and it nearly raced away with her heart. "You what?" she asked, barely able to breath. That was the last thing she expected him to say. Ever...

"Merry Christmas," he merely said and went to get up. She got him by the wrist and pulled him back down. "Oh, no you don't. You can't say things like that to a girl and then leave. That's not how it works." She sighed. "No wonder you always break girls' hearts…" He looked over at her, slightly bemused. "What? What are you talking about?" he asked. She shook her head in frustration. "God, I wish you weren't so dumb about things sometimes..." He touched her arm, trying to calm her. "Like love?" he asked, sure that that was what she was talking about. "Yes, like love, Sherlock."

Greg and John came wandering back into the room, each with bloody Mary's in hand. They obviously hadn't noticed the two were still talking. "Come on," Molly said softly between clenched teeth. She got up and dragged Sherlock from the room. He went along with her, not even bothering to argue. She threw on her coat and handed him his, along with his scarf. He quietly put them on, having got the hint. Together, they left the flat. "Going for walk," Sherlock yelled over his shoulder before leaving. He closed the door behind him and followed after Molly, who was already down the stairs.

**(****Autor's note: I'm so very sorry for the late update, especially to ****siriussherlock13. Forgive me! I'm sorry, I must have drove you up the wall, crazy. I had finals and I graduated. I was super super busy... I hope this makes it all better. :D Love you guys… I apologize, again. I'll try and post the last two chapters tomorrow, if I can. I may do more chapters than that but I don't really know yet. You'll see what I mean tomorrow... I'll go back and edit later, I haven't had the chance to yet. So be nice! lol.)**


	4. I've Always Known

The trip outside was quiet but quick. Once they were outside, she eyed him with a thoughtful expression. "Why today?" He didn't answer her, he just quirked an eyebrow in her direction. "Please Sherlock, for the love of god, no games. I can't handle them, not today. You know what I mean, so don't play dumb. I love you, I really do. Don't make me strangle you on Christmas."

He was a bit taken aback by her bossy tone. She never stood up for herself like this, never stood tall and stubborn. To be honest, she scared him a bit. He nodded appreciatively at her. "Molly, you..." He suddenly couldn't find the words and he stammered a bit, only to shut his mouth. He looked around in thought, trying to find the right words. She shook her head to herself and took a few steps closer to him, reaching out for his coat, but found herself too nervous to touch him. She just let her hand fall, instead.

People were singing Christmas carols down the street, and she couldn't help but smile. Christmas was her favorite time of the year. It was a time when family and friends got together, shared meals, told stories, gave each other gifts, and shared their love for each other. Ironic that she spent the holiday at 221b every year, wishing she could have all that with a certain consulting detective...

The sidewalk was covered in a light blanket of snow by now, which had fallen since Molly had arrived. Snowflakes were still falling but it was light. As Sherlock walked, he left footprints in the snow. She saw how long his strides were and how duck-footed he was. It was cute to her, really. She smiled and looked up, trailing his slim body all the way up to meet his eyes. His hair was disheveled from her fingers pulling at it. She blushed a deep red and had to clear her throat. He was already watching her, his head cocked to the right a bit. A curious look flashed in his eyes and a small smile eventually found its way to his features.

"What are you looking at?" he asked her innocently. His expression almost made her laugh. As of now, he was anything _but_ innocent. God, the way he kissed her earlier. She nearly died thinking about it. "You're blushing," he said. "What's on your mind?" She cleared her throat and looked away, to an elderly couple who were walking by, hand in hand. "Nothing, don't worry about it."

He eyed her for a long moment before taking a few steps closer. He was quiet; she could tell by the way he walked, as odd as that may sound. He took slow steps, old English shoes skimming a white blanket of snow, dragging it along. He looked like he was back to his old self, hushed and reserved. He had that expression again, too. The one where he seemed deep in thought, lost in his disgustingly poetic trail. His eyes were a pale green-blue, and she nearly got lost in them. It made her breath catch and she was sure he noticed.

His expression was hard for her to read, as always. She pursed her lips, looking up at him again. "Sherlock, say something, please," she said, a fit of anxiety near ready to hit her. He was suddenly in front of her and she could feel the heat that emanated from his lean and beautiful body. Snow was beginning to fall a bit harder now and she watched as tiny flakes fell and got lost in his hair.

"What are you thinking about right now?" he asked her.

He had a thoughtful look on his face and she felt like asking him just the same question. For a moment, she stumbled, nearly lack jaw. Had he really asked her that? He never _asked _that, for he always already knew. He should take up a job as a psychic on a circus road show. He waited, an eyebrow raised. His expression was that of patience, which again, surprised her. He was usually so quick to get annoyed and lose patience. He seemed to be always on his last straw with everyone. That was just how he worked, it was odd to see him be doing anything different.

He smelled of earl gray tea and a cologne that was somehow distinctly Sherlock. It was distracting and she had to remember how to form words. "I'm just… Thinking about you, I guess. How come you don't know that? You can't deduce that from my shoelaces? Or from the way my hair is?" She looked a bit annoyed, and truth be told, she was. He raised an eyebrow at her. "I can hardly tell your thoughts from those cowboy boots you have on, that's absurd." She narrowed her eyes at him and just shook her head to herself. "I was kidding…"

He smirked then, but it was an 'I feel extremely stupid' kind of smirk. "Oh," he finally said. He looked away, to the windows of Speedy's. People were in, buying lunch and hot drinks. "We wouldn't work, you know." His voice was sincere, bold even. She felt her heart drop and a wave of certainty washed over her. It was never in the cards for them, that she knew. "The self-proclaimed sociopath and the pathologist…" She let her words trail off, an almost amused expression on her face. Almost. Sherlock knew better, he knew her too well. She was fighting tears.

The great Sherlock Holmes looked taken aback. Perhaps it was because of her comment, perhaps it was because of the self-control she had. He couldn't believe how well she held her emotions in, he was almost jealous. Then he realized something. She was like that because so many people had broken her heart, she was just used to it. He suddenly felt horrible, even worse than he had when telling her it wouldn't work, if that were possible. He loved her, this was not what he wanted. He wanted to be with her, to love her, but in the end, she would get hurt. All he did was hurt people, it was a simple fact.

"Don't worry, Sherlock. I've known all along. I just couldn't help falling for you. This is just the last little page in my book of denial, so to speak." She sighed, looking up at him. Her eyes were teary. "I guess I should actually be thanking you." She gave him one last smile, a smile that was both weak and ultimately strong at the same time. Her heart was officially shattered into a million pieces. She wondered briefly if he could see it, if it was written on her face as clear as day. "Molly…" he said, his voice coming out hoarse sounding.

She nodded and turned away, to walk around him and go back upstairs. Before she had the time to the process the information, he had pulled her into his arms. She let him press his lips to hers. When her brain finally kicked in, she came to the realization that Sherlock, her Sherlock Holmes was kissing her, and with the intent to make her knees weak. That thought alone made her breathless. He did want her, she knew that now. The only problem was their situation, love wasn't the problem. A small moan escaped his lips as she pulled him closer and it sent her mind reeling. And there, in the middle of the sidewalk on Baker Street, they kissed each other senseless. Neither cared that people watched them, that people honked horns as they drove by. It was them, they were all that mattered.

What they didn't know though, was that Mrs. Hudson and a certain ex-army doctor watched from the window upstairs. What had been worried expression had dissolved into wide smiles. "Took long enough," Mrs. Hudson said, nudging John in the rib. He laughed and turned away from the curtain to give them privacy. "I agree."


	5. Been A Rough Night

A little while later, it seemed everyone was back upstairs, full from dinner and comfortably convened in the big living room. Mycroft had since arrived and he was sitting beside Greg, brandy in hand. Sam had also come by, and she was sitting on the couch next to Molly, a sisterly arm around her. She didn't know what had happened, but she could sure guess.

Greg stood up and raised his glass to everyone. "To those who can't be here with us…" He nodded to Sammy, knowing her husband was away. John was next to raises his glass. He met Greg's gaze and smiled sadly. "To those we miss, yes." He thought of his sister, Harry, who had passed away two years ago in an awful car accident. He had to fight off a few tears.

Everyone clinked glasses and nodded. Aside from Molly that is... Sure, she clinked her wine glass but her mind was elsewhere. She looked over at a certain consulting detective that sat beside her. His eyes were on the faraway wall, and he seemed to be lost in his thoughts, maybe even in his mind palace or something to that effect. His expression was blank and the fire reflected off his porcelain pale skin. For once, he hadn't noticed that she was looking over at him. He was totally oblivious. His legs were crossed and he held his scotch between his hands, on his lap. He always looked so proper and British, it killed her.

She looked away, back to Mrs. Hudson, who was jabbering away about her favorite memories of Joyce, her sister who passed away not a year ago. Molly couldn't help but smile at the excitement she spoke with. Greg was cuddled up to Mycroft, his head on the man's shoulder. Mycroft smiled over at Molly as she looked up at him. "How have you been, dear?" he asked. She made a funny face and he laughed. "Been better. Thank you, Mycroft. How are you?" He shrugged a shoulder and looked down at Greg. "I have a monkey on my shoulder. I'm doing alright, though." Greg sat up and frowned. "Hey, shut up. I am not… A monkey." Mycroft giggled at that, but he didn't take his words back. He placed a little kiss on Greg's nose and it seemed as if he was instantly forgiven.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sherlock take a sip of his drink, though, he was still lost in that wonderful mind of his, swimming in his thoughts. The whole movement looked so mechanical.

"We should get out dessert," Molly said, a tinge of happiness in her voice. She winked over at Greg when his ears practically perked up. "Lordy, that sounds good," Mrs. Hudson said. The two ladies got up and went into the kitchen to get out some munchies. "Oh, wait for me," Greg said, nearly running after them.

A little while later the three came back in. "Everything's on the table," Mrs. Hudson announced. "Help yourselves." Molly walked over to the couch again, and handed a little plate to Sherlock. It had a blueberry scone on it and a napkin. "Your favorite," she said with a little smile. His eyes met hers and to her surprise, he let a smile slip. His hand accidentally brushed hers when she handed him the plate. On the outside, he looked fine but he felt as if his hand was on fire. She didn't notice, and for that, he was grateful.

Nothing had changed. They weren't meant to be, he'd said it himself. The kiss they shared only made it hurt deeper. There was no denying it now, though. He told her he loved her and all be damned, he'd even showed her. The cat was out of the bag now, but it _still _didn't make a difference. Maybe he was right, maybe was just incapable of being in a relationship because she would just be bound to get hurt. At least he cared as much as to put her well-being first. That was rather sweet of him…

That night, as everyone left to go home, Sherlock pulled her to the side. "Good night," he told her, and she noticed how fidgety he seemed. She nodded her head a little. "Good night, Sherlock." She reached up and placed a little kiss on his cheek. Sam came over and threw her arms around Sherlock, unknowingly killing whatever moment the two were going to have. "Merry Christmas, you big lunkhead." Despite the situation, he laughed and hugged her back. "Merry Christmas, Sam. Have a safe trip home. Do give Terrance my best, I did miss him this year." Molly raised her eyebrows as she watched the two talk. Sherlock was being rather… Civil. "Wow," she whispered to herself. Sam flushed and nodded her head, her dark curls bobbing. "I will, I promise. Thank you." She turned to Molly and a little smile found her lips. She patted the pathologist's arm. "I'll be waiting outside, Molls."

Sherlock watched as Mollly's friend left the flat and descended the stairs. The two were suddenly left alone. "I should get going," Molly said, awkwardly pointing to the door. "I wouldn't want to keep Sam waiting outside for too long. It's cold…" Sherlock nodded his head, a little bit of a sad smile playing on his handsome lips as he did so. "Right, yes. You should go." He stuffed his hands into his suede suit jacket's pockets before adding, "See you around."

Molly nodded once and made to leave. "Merry Christmas, Sherlock Holmes." She left without looking back at him. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the door close behind her. "Of course he wasn't going to come after you, Molls. What do you think he is, your knight in shining armor?" She whispered the words to herself, as a little frown found her features. "Hardly, love." The ring on her finger caught a bit of light and she was reminded of his promises, empty promises. "If he cared, he would at least try." She sighed to herself.

**(Author's note: I know, there might be a few mistakes. I will go back and edit once this is done. Thanks for all the reviews, guys. I'm sorry I've been crammed with other things these past weeks. My apologies. Well, have a good weekend. :) I hope these chapter's helped. One more left. Please, tell me what you guys think. Oh! And a special thanks to ****siriussherlock13** for the congrats on my graduating.)


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